


Pink

by jamdropsmarblecakes



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:38:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1739945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamdropsmarblecakes/pseuds/jamdropsmarblecakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The age gap between the two of them had never been a big deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Whispers in the Coffee Shop

**Author's Note:**

> This was original posted on ff.net but, it got a bit explicit a few chapters in, so I thought it best to move it across here...  
> There was a lot of talk about Smiggle/Delicity (?) on Tumblr and this was where I ended up.

People gave them funny looks sometimes.

But most of the time, it was just a generally accepted thing.

Felicity Smoak and John Diggle.

 

The tiny blonde half of this equation smiled to herself as she pushed through the coffee shop door.

“Smoak,” came the sharp call.

She turned to the table set near the window seat.

There he was.

“John,” she smiled, weaving through a few occupied tables to reach him.

She found it off that she didn’t call him Diggle anymore. It had been the same with a few of her college boyfriends. Any nickname they had was traded for the first name as soon as the first date was over.

Leaning down with a hand placed gently on his shoulder, she kissed him softly on his lips before pecking his forehead.

John pulled a chair around close to him and she sat, their thighs and shoulders trading warmth.

The fitted lilac shirt he was wearing left little to the imagination, but imagine she did. He didn’t have the body of boy, a boy who spent all his time in front of mirrors at the gym. Rather, he had the body of man, a man who got his body from the work he did. Soft in the right places, muscular where he needed to be. She could detail just about every inch of his body. They had a hotel booked in Coast City for the night and Felicity was squirming with excitement, blushing from head to toe at where her mind went with these thoughts.

“You right?” John raised his eyebrows, the hand on the back of her chair came to that sensitive spot on her side.

“Mmhmm,” she grinned, scrunching her nose up.

“It’s just,” he returned the grin and leaned in so his lips touched her ear, “you’ve gone as pink as that pair of underwear I tore off you last weekend.”

“John!” she squealed, arms flailing, nearly sending a waitress, and the coffees she carried, flying.

Everybody in the café turned to stare at them.

Felicity cleared her throat, straightened her glasses and sipped the coffee that John had waiting for her.

* * *

 

John couldn’t help himself as he took in the charming pink that graced Felicity’s features. Her eyes watered from trying to hold in her laugh. A laugh, once it started, would never stop.

Her tongue flicked out to catch the crema from her coffee and John’s hand became firmer against her side, pulling her closer.

He kissed the side of her head, still smiling to himself.

John caught the eye of Lara, a waitress who the two were on a first name basis with.

She nodded, offering a little wave from behind the counter.

People were always a little thrown when they found out the age difference between the two of them. They would always laugh it off. It was one of Felicity’s favorite things to do.

“When you were starting middle school, I was still eating baby food.”

“When you graduated recruit school, I was in the third grade.”

But really, they were on the exact same level.

Felicity surprised him in the first months of their relationship. At times, she was loving and romantic with dinners and wine and little gifts, but other times, he found himself asking her to slow down.

She would slow down, momentarily, but would then demand that he pick up the pace. That he may think he was fit, but he was most certainly not bedroom fit and that he’d want to lift his game if she didn’t want her to leave him for a younger man.

This was then followed by a breathless, girly giggle that escaped her bruised lips. He’d swallow the sound, flipping her underneath him easily, his broad shoulders shadowing her from the light through the window.

Felicity was, in the most clichéd of terms, a riddle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a mystery wearing panda flats.

She always grinned cheekily at him when her friends nudged her in the ribs, joking about how he must be teaching her lots.

Because, really, John was a very straight-forward, missionary style man when it came to bedroom antics. It wasn’t for lack of experience by any means, just more what worked for him.

That was until Felicity had showed up at his apartment one night with a mouth-droppingly thick book of karma sutra and very little under her pea coat.


	2. A Curious, Statistical Anomoly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody touches Felicity's computers without ramifications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not much, but I was in the mood for some John and Felicity goodness.

“John!” Felicity’s shriek came from the computer set up.

Both John and Oliver paused their hand to hand combat training, Oliver raising an eyebrow in a silent question of “dude, what have you done?”

John shrugged.

If he were honest, it probably had something to do with the fact that he’d checked his emails and done a quick catch up on news that was not always on their radar.

“Oliver!”

“Whatever it was, I didn’t do it!” he held his hands up in a gesture of innocence.

Felicity’s heels click-clacked across the concrete floor and she came in to view.

Diggle, slightly distracted by Felicity’s legs in the dress she was wearing, was oblivious to the way that Felicity’s eyebrows were drawn together.

“What did you do to my computer?” her hands were on her hips and she glared at him. She was trying not to smile, he could tell, but her feigning anger made him laugh.

“Dig,” Oliver chided.

“Every time, John, every time you touch my computer, I spend the next half an hour trying to fix crashes, locked systems, data loses, jammed drives, bizarre re-configurations and things stuck in the keyboard!”

“The cracker crumbs were mine,” Oliver raised a guilty hand in the air.

“No food, no drink, no you near my computers!”

Felicity wasn’t one to hold a grudge, but she refused to talk to either of her team mates for the rest of the night. Diggle went and got Big Belly Burger and, like feeding a wild animal, placed Felicity’s bag of food on the table and backed away slowly. She steadfastly refused to look at him and only glanced at the bag. But when John peered around the corner to check on her twenty minutes later, the paper bag was screwed up in a ball in the bin and her large cup of soda sat in its own condensation on the computer table.

He watched her trying to inconspicuously pick things out of her teeth with one hand as she scrolled through police reports with the other.

John slowly walked up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, massaging them gently and eliciting an involuntary moan from Felicity as she tipped her head back, eyes closed.

“Hey,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss her.

“Hey,” she replied, breaking away from the kiss.

“How you going?”

“Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for messing with my babies!” she squirmed out from under his firm grip and turned in her chair.

“Felicity,” he stood up straight and folded his arms.

“John, I’m trying to get work done,” she explained. He could tell that this confrontation made her uneasy.

“I know,” he soothed.

“I’m not sorry,” she mimicked his stance and folded her arms, drawing his attention to her cleavage.

Managing to tear his eyes away, he looked up to see a huge shit eating grin gracing her face.

“What was it that I told Oliver ages ago? Anyone with boobs can get a frat boy to do anything.”

“I was never a frat boy, Felicity.”

“Still,” she argued, “boobs, they distracted you.”

“You staying at mine tonight?” he raised a suggestive eyebrow.

“If you stay away from my computers, it’s always you that crashes them! I have far better things to be doing than-”

John kissed her and turned to walk away.

Once he was sure he was out of her throwing range, he turned around, grinning from ear to ear.

Felicity raised her eyebrow at him, daring him to say something.

“It must just be some curious statistical anomaly.”


	3. Cardigans and Misplaced Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One member of Team Arrow is gravely injured and it's no longer just about the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part one of a three part story within this piece.

"Oh god," Felicity pulled her cardigan off and scrunched it up, pressing it to John's neck.

"Sit him up, sit him up, sit him up," Oliver rushed, jostling him into a sitting position.

Diggle's head lolled back and then forward as Oliver dragged him the closest wall, propping him up against it while he checked him for anymore wounds.

"Don't press to hard, you'll cut the blood supply to his brain," Oliver whispered, a hand going supportively to Felicity's shoulder.

"Oh, right," she replied, as if this conversation was the most normal thing in the world.

She eased her left hand off a bit, cupping John's grey face with her right.

"Babe," she whispered, running a thumb along his eyebrow.

"I'm going to go and get the car, there's some medical supplies in it, I won't be long," Oliver assured her, once he had assured himself that neither of his partners had anymore life threatening wounds.

"He needs a hospital, Oliver," Felicity demanded.

"We can't do that, bullets make people ask questions, they'll match it to a SCPD officers gun, and then the questions will get a lot trickier," he explained.

"But," Felicity sniffed, her eyes falling back to Diggle.

"It's okay, I'm gonna call someone."

“Who?”

“A friend.”

“He’s going to die, Oliver.”

“Felicity,” Oliver squatted down, “He’s not. I promise. Do you trust me?”

“Mhmm, yeah,” Felicity wiped her nose on the back of her hand, watching Oliver get up and hurry away.

“Keep him sitting up, if he comes to, keep him talking, he’s breathing okay right now, so just keep an eye on that, and Felicity,” Oliver stopped and turned back, “Don’t panic, it’s under control.”

Oliver’s hurried footfalls disappeared and she shifted positions, feet either side of Diggle’s legs, squatting ungracefully. Her cardigan was almost soaked through and she wished Oliver would hurry.

“John,” she cooed, “Diggle?”

There was no response from the man and the panic rose in her chest.

“John Diggle!” she almost yelled, “You open your eyes right now!”

There was a groan and Diggle’s dark eyes half opened.

“John?” she whispered.

“F’licity,” he slurred.

“We’re going to patch you up, you’ll be fine, I promise, Oliver promised,” she nodded.

“How bad is it?” he asked, a little more coherent.

Felicity broke eye contact and glanced at her hand.

“It’s, um, it’s not good, John,” she sobbed.

He nodded, a hand coming up to steady her when she teetered slightly. He touched a hand to her face, making her look at him.

“Ssh,” he soothed, “it’s okay.”

“You shouldn’t be comforting me, I should be comforting you,” she blubbered.

“It doesn’t hurt, Smoak, I’m not in any pain.”

“Don’t say that,” she shook her head vehemently.

“Don’t cry, beautiful girl,” his eyes started closing again.

“John?” she put an ear to his mouth and almost screamed with relief when she could feel his hot breath on the side of her face.

The town car screeched to a halt not far from where Felicity sat, still and detached.

“Felicity!” Oliver yelled, scrambling from the car, nursing his own injured arm.

She didn’t move.

“Felicity, come on,” he crouched next to her, “I need you to stand up when I lift him.”

She was stroking John’s face, her pink cardigan now a deep crimson, the air pungent with a metallic, brassy smell.

“Felicity!” he shouted, shaking her, “he’s still alive, I need your help!”


	4. Gone in a Flash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing their efforts to try and save John's life, Oliver makes a call to a friend, who is there in an instant.

Felicity sat up against the wall near the bathroom. Oliver and Barry gently lowered Diggle so that he was leaning up against.

“I’ve secured the padding on his neck wound but I’d advise you to apply some pressure, it’ll help with the clotting process,” Barry was busy inserting a cannula into the crease of Diggle’s elbow. He hooked up a bag of blood and gaffa taped it to the wall above them.

“He can’t die, Barry,” Felicity declared, sternly holding Barry’s gaze.

“He won’t,” Barry replied as convincingly as he could manage.

A moan from Diggle had them all paying close attention.

“John,” Barry squatted down in front of him, “this wound is a little trickier than I imagined it would be, I’m going to consult with a doctor friend of mine in Central City and then we’ll patch you up.”

“Who?” Diggle’s head lolled around and Oliver helped Felicity hold it still.

“Um, I’m Barry, Barry Allen, so just sit tight,” his voice wavered nervously.

“F’l’c’ty,” his tongue flicked out to wet his lips, “Where’she?”

“Here,” she whispered in his ear, placing a kiss to his cheek.

“Oliver, where’she?” he was getting agitated.

“John, I’m here,” she soothed, her spare hand rubbing his side, from under his arm, all the way down to his hip, a gesture she had hoped he’d recognize.

“F’l’c’ty!” he shouted coarsely.

Felicity’s lip quivered and John tried to thrash out of her grasp.

“Don’t let him tear the blood line out,” Barry called over the top of the commotion.

Oliver was trying to contain Diggle’s flailing arms, while Felicity did her best to maintain pressure on his wound. Oliver made a gesture at Barry, who came over with a needle full of something.

“This could kill him if you give it to him,” Barry warned.

“He’s going to kill himself jostling around like this,” Oliver spat back.

Barry managed to get a grip on Diggle’s wrist and jab the sedative into his forearm, he rubbed the injection site lightly with his thumb after.

As Diggle settled, Felicity’s whimpers grew louder. Both men looked at her.

“Can you,” she gestured for Oliver to take her place, “Please, I, Oliver, please.”

She pushed John forward lightly and stood up, holding Diggle in place until Oliver slipped in behind him. Diggle was still alert enough to sense the change and he reached blindly for Felicity as she stepped away, his hand brushing her thigh, his eyes slow to catch up with the movement.

“Felicity,” he all but mouthed as his eyelids drooped and he relaxed in Oliver’s arms.

She ran up the stairs and outside, bending over with her hands on her knees, sobbing violently once she come to a stop. She was covered in blood and she wiped her hands furiously on her jeans to no avail.

“Felicity, Felicity,” Barry’s voice called to her, “Stop!”

His hands grabbed hers and she froze.

“I know that you and Diggle are seeing each other, and that it’s pretty serious, I don’t want to hear about that because I know how professional and private you are,” he nodded, not breaking eye contact, still with a gentle hold of her arms, “now, I know this is difficult and I feel for you, believe me, I do, but right now, you need to keep it together for him.”

Felicity sobbed, her hands shaking.

“But he’s in a lot of trouble, Barry, he can’t die, it’s really bad and I don’t know how much more I can take of it, you’ve got to save him, please,” her voice grew higher pitched, more desperate and whimper filled, with each word.

Barry hugged her to his chest, his chin resting on her head.

“Come on,” he encouraged, “my friend from Central City is on hold down there, she’s going to talk us through saving Diggle, I’m gonna need your help.”

“Okay,” Felicity replied, her nose blocked and face blotchy.

“BARRY!” they both heard Oliver call from the bottom of the stairs. “He’s having trouble breathing!”


	5. Headstrong and Heartfelt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have Felicity, Oliver and Barry been successful in their attempts to save John's life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third and final piece within a piece.

They were greeted by John’s wheezing, shallow breaths and Oliver’s panicked encouragement for him to ‘just keep breathing’.

“Herbs?” Felicity asked, holding his head upright, hoping to keep his airways as open as possible.

“No good if he’s not conscious enough to drink them,” Oliver shook his head.

“John, come on, my love, come on,” Felicity insisted, searching his face.

Barry was a few meters away, his phone to his ear, nodding every few seconds in silent recognition of whatever the other person was saying.

After a few more minutes, he hung up and Oliver and Felicity looked at him expectantly.

“We can try, it’ll be tough, but I think we can do it,” he nodded.

“Alright,” Oliver removed himself from behind Diggle, leaving Felicity to keep him upright, “Tell me what you need.”

While the two men prepped a table and all the instruments they’d need, Felicity sat with John, holding his large, limp hand in hers. She stroked his face, rubbed his arm and, occasionally, simply rested her hand on his chest, feeling the faltering rise and fall of it.

She couldn’t lose him. Refused to, in fact.

“John, I swear to god, if you die on me, I’ll kill you,” she whispered.

“Doesn’t make sense,” he replied and, despite his failing body, Felicity could hear the teasing tone.

“Oh, John!” she sobbed.

“Ssh, baby girl,” he lifted a hand and placed it clumsily on hers.

He leaned heavily into her and Felicity felt the panic rise in her chest.

“Alright, Felicity,” Oliver motioned for her to get out of the way.

With a chorus of grunts, they managed to get Diggle on to the table and they went at it, uncompromising, for over five hours.

* * *

 

The success of their efforts would eventually be rewarded. Three days after he was shot, John was conscious enough to hold a conversation. He was no longer dancing on the edge of cognizance, his eyes stayed focused instead of rolling around in his head, the grey color that graced his face was slowly being replaced.

Felicity, beside herself with lack of sleep, worry and general anxiety could do nothing but cry and laugh into his chest, shaking hands running all over him.

Oliver patted Barry on the back, just as he had done as the young CSI had put the last stitch in Diggle’s neck.

“You did good, kid,” he assured him.

Barry nodded, “I’m just glad he’s okay, for her.”

The two men watched as Felicity placed a tender kiss on Diggle’s lips, before carefully sitting on the table next to him, where he laid slightly propped up by pillow. They exchanged quiet words, loving touches, small smiles.

Nobody had left the lair for three days, save Oliver’s one trip up to the bar to grab a bottle of whiskey. Barry had to leave for Central City but promised to be back in a few hours to check in, Oliver needed to go and check on things at home, but for Felicity, everything she needed was right in front of her.

“Never do that again,” Felicity smacked him lightly on the arm, before taking one hand in hers.

“Can’t promise anything,” he shrugged.

“I’m glad you’re alive.”

John laughed, then winced, “Me too, Smoak, me too.”

She kissed the inside of his wrist.

“So,” he started, and gingerly turned his head, “how’s it look?”

“Like a caterpillar is sat on your neck,” Felicity scrunched her nose up.

“Oh good,” Diggle sighed, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“A cute caterpillar?” Felicity offered.

“Yeah?”

“I dig it,” she grinned, and John, despite being a little airy-fairy on pethidine understood the pun and smiled back.

“You’re an idiot,” he scoffed.


	6. Flushed and In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An early night at the Arrow Cave means John and Felicity can pick up some dinner on the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could be considered a prequel to this whole entire thing and is an 'exploration' of the underwear tearing incident that Diggle mentions in the first chapter. Selena (bluemoonfireworks on Tumblr) has been a fantastic beta on this particular piece and there are not enough thanks in the world for her encouragement, patience and advice.

They’d dropped Oliver off at his place and were heading back through town to Felicity’s place for the night. The two had plans to drop in at their favorite sushi place to grab some dinner, but as Felicity’s hands danced up his leg, he knew they were going to be delayed.

She had not long pulled her sweater off when John swerved into a layby, narrowly avoiding a weeping willow, and turned the car off. He glanced at her and she grinned.

A blush spread over his face, and she didn’t know whether it was from shyness or from arousal, but she felt him grow hard next to her hand. He pulled her closer and she attempted to scramble on top of him. To assist, he pushed the driver’s seat back as far as it would go, and she wedged her body between the steering wheel and his body.

He lifted her skirt up, tucking the hem into the waistband, revealing her pink cotton knickers. He paused momentarily and then, mouthing a “sorry” that she knew he didn’t mean, he ripped her underwear at the seam and tore it off her. With impatient fingers, he worked the buttons of her shirt ferociously, causing two to pop off, so she paced him, unbuttoning the rest of them with trembling fingers.

“Suppose you want to have some clothes left on you by the time we hit town,” he chuckled.

“Well, yeah, that'd be nice,” she shrugged.

“Hurry up!” he whispered quickly.

“Hey, patience, or I will button it back up!” she warned, smiling cheekily.

John laughed, arranging her atop his thighs and gushing gruffly when he felt how wet she was. She merely eyeballed him suggestively over the top of her glasses as she continued with the buttons.

Once Felicity was done with her shirt, she moved on to John’s, loosening his grey tie and pulling it from the collar of his white shirt. She undid his buttons in record time (and without pulling any off), and pushed the material apart, placing urgent kisses on his chest.

He popped the front clasp of her bra (god, he loved the front clasp) and briefly paused again, before taking one of her breasts in his mouth. He took to enjoying every inch of her soft flesh, moving unhurriedly over her nipple, his motions completely different from the heated, feverish impatience of a few seconds ago.

Felicity was the impatient one now, too distracted by his tongue to be able to manage the zip on his trousers. “Ugh, god, damn it,” she hissed, “John, help.”

He obliged and Felicity tugged his trousers and underwear down over his hips. In return, he gripped her hips and lowered her down gradually, forcing a deep, loud, tortured moan from her.

He filled her slowly, deliberately, eager to savor the moment.

“You good?” he asked, looking up at her from where he was kissing her erect nipples.

“Mhmm,” the squeak was all Felicity could manage as a reply.

Felicity closed her eyes then, tipping her head back. She grasped his neck in her hands, and held his head to her breast, praying that he did not cease his delicious, steady sucking of her aching breasts.

One of her hands went to where they met, gently pushing John away from her swollen breasts, and she lingered there for a minute, her eyes locked on his.

The look that she gave him, that look of love and desire, and most of all understanding, unnerved him sometimes, because it was as if she was looking straight into him, and there was nowhere to hide.

John cupped her bottom in his large hands, and she loved how she fit in them, and how her belly molded so naturally into his, and how he moved her body with the power of his own, and how hers slipped against him and mashed in some inexplicable, perfect unison.

He kissed her, continuously, feeling the warmth of her insides surrounding him, and the slight movement she elicited from both of them when she bit his upper lip softly.

She drew back and he exhaled loudly with pleasure, grinding himself within her, instantly unstoppable, ravenous. He lived within her belly, deep and scorching, the thrusts rapid, hard, his big square palms squeezing her breasts not at all kindly.

He watched her with delight, and though she didn’t know what she looked at that moment, in the grip of this mad, wanton pleasure, she imagined that she didn’t make a bad sight, with her long lush hair thrown about her shoulders, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks red, her lips parted.

Her whole body tightened around him and she grinned.

“Close?”

“Close,” he confirmed.

She reached behind her, her hands finding John’s thighs. She leaned heavily on them, pushing down on John harder than before. A sudden burst of color washed over the car in front of John’s eyes and for a moment, the world filled with all possible pleasures. He pulsed hard and furiously, releasing himself into Felicity, filling her to the brim.

Throwing herself back as unmatched, unadulterated bliss momentarily swept her away, Felicity succeeded in leaning on the horn, making it sound in one long, continuous honk.

Felicity squealed and jumped forward, leaning her head against John’s chest, panting and giggling. His whole body vibrated with laughter. Enveloped in his embrace, she kissed his exposed shoulder, her lips gliding over his glistening chest and the metal of the small, round, silver pendant on a delicate silver chain that he had recently taken to wearing.

He rested inside her for a little while, pleasantly pumped by her pulsating muscles. A coaxing “up, up, up” was all that was needed to draw one last whimper of fulfillment from her as he pulled out. Her eyebrows drew together slightly as her head tipped back, a gesture that John recognized as a yearning for more.

John didn’t know if he was really capable of loving a woman, but it seemed that this one got under his skin. The way he spoke of her, the way he acted around her. He became a different, kinder, more thoughtful man when she was with him, and turned borderline psychotic when she left him, even for a few hours, or if she got hurt on a mission. All these signs pointed to one conclusion. Love.

Felicity kissed him on the chin, drawing the tip of her tongue along the faint dimple. She rested against his slick chest again and sighed.

“Felicity?” he questioned, his voice no louder than a whisper.

“Mmm?” she replied with a contented sigh, snuggling under his chin.

“I’m pretty sure I love you,” he declared.

There was a silence and John felt her swallow hard. She sat up straight and he swore she had never looked more beautiful in that moment, with her hair loose of its ponytail, her cheeks flushed and glistening, her lips red and swollen.

His look was full of that which frightened and excited her, the look of hungry, deep, gentle, ethereal, profound, soaring love. She knew that no one would ever look at her like this. No one had, either.

“I-I love you too, John,” she replied, earnestly.

A smile tugged at his lips and she lent in to kiss him.

“Still up for sushi?” He kissed her nose and helped her back into her seat.

“Always.”

She shimmied her skirt down to provide herself some modesty and John took the opportunity to tuck himself back in and do up his fly and button. Felicity clipped her bra back together and, tossing the remains of her shirt and underwear in the back, pulled the thin knit from the foot well and over her head. John would re-button his shirt once they stopped for sushi.

As John started the car and put it into gear, Felicity reached across and placed her hand on his, still wearing a mischievous grin on her face.


End file.
